


A Very Spotty Christmas

by Living_Free



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Cass saves the day, Crack, Damian is generally oblivious, Dick is the ultimate mother-brother, Fluff, Gen, His favorite target is Bruce, Humor, Jason makes drama where there is none, Sickfic, chicken pox and itchy bois, or just Bruce's sanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 08:34:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_Free/pseuds/Living_Free
Summary: Damian is paranoid,Tim is bringing polka dots back,Jason is a troublemaker,and Cass just wants everyone to chill out for once.





	A Very Spotty Christmas

It started in the changing rooms, post patrol. The Bats were on a high after taking out an entire horde of evil robots and their evil daddy, Lex Luthor. Jason was rattling off the highlights of the battle for Bruce, making sure to emphasize the parts where the robots got distracted by Dick's bouncing tushy in his skintight armour. 

"...I didn't know that he could arouse technically lifeless objects," Jason was saying, as Bruce glared at an unrepentant Dick. "But while the robots were busy looking at him, the rest of us started smashing them while Dick took out Luthor. And you know, I think even Luthor grabbed a little look-"

"Jaybird! I can't help my sex appeal! I refuse to repress my own sexuality!" Dick cried in offence.

"You are going to wear a cape," Bruce threatened his gasping eldest. "I won't have every villain and their grandmother sliding in comments about my son's bottom during battles. Why just last night, I was battling Darkseid, and he-"

Leaving Jason to stir up drama between Dick and Bruce, Tim and Damian proceeded to disrobe and hit the showers. Only, Tim found that his zipper at the back wouldn't come undone. 

"Damian, can you undo the zipper?" He asked, turning around and bending so that Damian could reach the zip at the base of his neck.

Damian scoffed something about 'Drake's inflexible fingers' but reached up to help. As the zip travelled down, exposing the expanse of Tim's back, Damian spotted an odd sight. "Drake," he said, "you have acquired some spotty blemishes upon your back."

Tim craned around to check, and screamed. The commotion attracted Dick, Jason, and Bruce as well. Dick peered into the changing rooms and gasped at the sight of Tim's red, spotted, back. "Oh, Timmy!" He cried, and dashed forward with a towel, quickly covering Tim' bare torso, the front of which was also covered in red spots. 

Damian found himself being buffeted out of the room as the great masses of Bruce and Jason entered as well. Now outside, Damian heard soft but harried words. "Poor Timmy," Grayson was saying worriedly, as Tim looked tiredly up at him. Damian strained his hearing and heard more snatches of the conversation. 

"...Quarantine," Father was saying. "Open the East Wing of the manor."

"The east wing! But its Christmas! Bruce, Timmy needs love...family!" Grayson refuted. 

"...Contagious little twink," Todd added. 

Soon, the doors opened, and a tearful Dick and a stoic Bruce bundled Tim upstairs, presumably to his confinement. 

Jason came out last, and looked down at Damian in surprise. "You're still here? Hey, did you touch Tim?"

A cold feeling flooded Damian's body. He had unzipped Drake's vest, but had there been contact? He could not be sure. "I..."

Todd looked conflicted. "Wash your hands," he advised. "Maybe a shower too," he added, before following the rest of the family upstairs and leaving Damian alone with his thoughts. 

Damian looked down at his hands, wondering. Surely it would be alright. After all, he probably hadn't even touched Drake's skin. Surely, he was safe. 

~*~*~*~

The following morning, Tim was not at breakfast. Damian noted his absence as he was usually the first one down, salivating over the coffee pot. Today, however, Grayson had been the one to make Drake breakfast and take it upstairs. 

Bruce followed Dick's retreating figure and glared at the skintight jeans clinging to his son's legs and other more globular body parts. "I'm going to burn everything in his damned wardrobe," he swore. Jason smirked into his morning tea, pleased to see that his carrying tales the previous night was still causing chaos the next morning. 

By noon, Damian could not contain his curiosity, and waddled over to Grayson, who was doing the dishes with a worried frown on his face. Damian hated seeing Grayson frown, it did not behoove him. Normally, he would crush the reason for Grayson's grief, but seeing as this time it was probably Drake, he would have to refrain. 

"Is Drake ill?" Damian piped up. "Is that why you are worrying? You must not worry Grayson, but instead seek to annihilate the source of your worries. I don't mean Drake," he said quickly, as Grayson looked down at him amusedly, "but rather his affliction."

Grayson burst out into a stream of tinkling laughter that made Damian glad. He reached down and pulled Damian close to him. "You're a sweet boy, Dami," he said softly. "And yes, I was worrying about Timmy. He's not exactly comfortable right now, and I hate seeing him just...clawing at himself. But he'll get better," Dick said, putting on a brave face, and smiling. 

Damian stared after Dick as the man walked off, wondering as to what disease could cause Drake such agony as to harm himself with his own hands. Surely it could be nothing good. 

~*~*~*~

Later that night, Damian plodded out of bed, his muscles aching from patrol earlier that night. He waddled down to the kitchen for a glass of water when he saw...

"The Spotted Terror!" Damian gasped, looking down at the red spots on his own arm. They were a dull red, spanning his forearms and up his upper arm and into his chest. Damian stumbled away from the kitchen in a haze. He too had been struck down by the Spotted Terror! Soon, he, too, would lose his mind like Drake and claw at his own flesh! 

His mind in a fugue, he automatically made to go to Dick's room, only to stop himself halfway. No! He would not infect Grayson with his illness! He could not bear to think that he had struck Grayson down due to his own weakness!

Instead, Damian squared his shoulders and came to a decision. He would leave the house, only to return when he had healed. He would go to one of his safehouses and recuperate there, so Grayson would never be exposed, would never have to see Damian suffer. It would rip his soft heart to bits, but at least he would be safe. Now, if he could smuggle Drake away with him to fully ensure Grayson's safety-

Just as Damian reached for the main door, the door swung open to reveal Todd, coming in from letting Ace the Bat-hound out for a late night pee. "Damian?" Jason asked, surprised. "What are you doing awake?"

Damian took several quick steps backwards in shock. "I...I..."

"Dami? Jay? What's going on?" Damian turned around and to his horror, saw Grayson right behind him, sleepily rubbing his eyes. "Is everything alright?" 

Then, Grayson did the unthinkable. He reached down and picked Damian up, cradling him against his chest. "Dami? Are you okay?"

Thoughts raced through Damian's mind at the speed of light. Grayson had touched the spots on his bare arm! He had infected the one person who loved him unconditionally! Oh, what a blighted fool he was!

"Dami?" Dick asked, concerned by his silence. "Is everything okay?"Damian opened his mouth, and-

-burst into tears. 

Damian's wails brought Bruce, Cass, and Alfred running into the hall. "What's going on?" Bruce demanded, taking in the sight of Damian in Dick's arms, crying, and Jason standing near the door. "Jason!"

"I didn't do anything!" Jason yelled. "Screw you and your internalized prejudices, old man!"

"Enough!" Cass said strongly. "Damian weeps. No drama from you," she said, pointing to Bruce and Jason. Then she glared at Bruce, "Stop suspecting Jason. Jason is good."

"Aw, thanks," Jason beamed. 

"Sometimes."

"Hey!"

By this time, Damian's wails had quietened to hiccuping sobs. "Damian, please talk to me," Dick pleaded. "What's wrong?"

"I have fallen victim to the Spotted Terror!" Damian wailed. "Even now, the red dots spread across my corpus, overtaking my flawless skin in their conquest! And what is more, now that you have touched me, Grayson, you, too, shall fall! And it is all my fa-a-ult!" Damian cried. 

Dick picked Damian's tiny arm up and examined it before clucking his tongue. "Aw, poor Dami got the chicken pox."

Damian stared. "Chicken...pox?"

"You must have got it when you helped Tim out of his uniform."

Damian's world stopped spinning. "This is...chicken pox? Not a plague? Not smallpox? Not an unknown disease?"

"Nope, just chicken pox."

"Then why did you all make such a production about Drake catching it in the first place!?" Damian demanded. 

"Well, Timmy's got a delicate constitution, remember?" Dick said. 

"He ain't got no spleen," Jason said. "He takes longer to recover when he falls sick."

Damian could have cussed, or yelled, or snarled at everyone to vent his unspeakable rage. Instead he settled for tiredly curling into Grayson's chest and allowing the chuckling man to carry him upstairs to...Drake's room. 

As Dick set Damian down beside Tim, the young, sleeping twink stirred. "Kon? Is that you?" Tim asked, his voice slurred with sleep. "My darling! You have come to squeeze this vile pox from my pores with the almighty force of your embrace! Wrap me up in your strong arms and squeeze me Kon! SQUEEZE ME!"

Tim opened his eyes to see not Kon-El, but the disappointed (Dick, Bruce, and Alfred), disgusted (Damian), and amused (Jason and Cass) stares of his family. Tim squeaked and tugged the blankets around him. "What's happening?"

"Dami got the chicken pox too," Dick said, and put Damian down next to Tim on the bed. "He'll stay here with you, so it'll be easier for us to check on the both of you at once."

"For shame, Master Timothy," Alfred said. "One mustn't appear to thirst quite so desperately."

"As soon as you're better," Dick said severely, "we are going to go to church and remove you from the grips of your lust, Timmy."

Tim groaned and fell back against his pillows as Bruce railed against Clark Kent and his brother/clone/son abomination and Damian snuggled into bed beside him, and promptly stole the blankets. Tim tried to steal his rightful fabrics away from the little usurper, but relented with a squeak as Damian placed his cold feet over Tim's sleep-warmed legs. 

Dick sat down and petted Damian's hair, eliciting a wide, frog-like grin from the boy, his joy partially due tot he fact that Drake was not getting any head pats. Under the gentle pressure of Grayson's hand on his forehead, Damian's eyes closed, and his smile grew drowsy. 

"Merry Christmas, Dami," Dick whispered, petting his baby brother's hair. "Merry Christmas, Timmy."

"Merry Christmas, Kon, my love," Tim mumbled tiredly, and snuggled down into the blankets, blissfully unaware of how he had just thrown his father into a conniption fit. 

"They're love is so pure," Jason smirked, fully aware that he was causing his father to develop high blood pressure. "Just think, perhaps by next Christmas, the power of their love could result in Tim's very own MPreg story arc, with the immaculate conception of his and Kon's baby, Tom-El."

"What is an MPreg?" Bruce asked.

Before Jason could answer, Cassandra bodily flung her entire self at him, tackling him to the ground in an effort to spare Bruce's sanity. Alfred rolled his eyes fondly and bustled Bruce out, leaving the siblings to have a little Christmas tussle in peace. 

After all, Christmas was a time for family, no matter how spotty some members were. 

~*~*~*~


End file.
